


Hanging the Moon

by Kagutsuchi



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Female Friendship, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Hand-Holding Extravaganza, Lotor being a capital G Gentleman, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, Unresolved Sexual Tension, for now, soooo much of it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-24 18:35:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16180829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kagutsuchi/pseuds/Kagutsuchi
Summary: A series of missing moments in canon and plausible sidestories linked together as an exploration of Allura and Lotor's evolving relationship, beginning with the death of Zarkon. Depending on how season 8 goes, will probably diverge into alternate canon territory. Possibly some background ships, hopefully some good female friendships later on and overall team appreciation, but definite focus on Lotura and what they mean to each other and the fate of the universe.





	1. Dreams of Peace

**Author's Note:**

> I referenced the episodes where Lance is in a cryopod to try to describe that process properly. Also this first chapter is coincidentally based off the same premise explored in CrystalRebellion's "Forge." Go read that (https://archiveofourown.org/works/14936133) for a different take on the "missing moment" explored here - what happened after Zarkon's death before Lotor and Allura's conversation on the bridge before the other paladins showed up.

The last thing he remembered was a shifting beam of light at his back, bracing him against the dark ahead. He had stood tall then, until the darkness had clouded his vision and all sensation dissolved into nothingness. Just as swiftly, the light filtered back in and he found himself outside of a cryopod slowly refilling itself with an injection of molten blue liquid, exuding partially crystallized fog from its seams. He shivered, leaning against the pod on unsteady legs and turning on his heel at the sound of footsteps.

It was the princess, still suited up for combat. She had a bowl of a gooey green substance in one hand, and the other worried the silvery strands of hair that curled around the base of her right ear. She quickly placed the bowl on the floor and made her way over to him, stopping just outside of arm’s reach.

She had an instinctual fear of him, and he knew it. How could she not? All she had known of the Galra was violence and desolation. But her aversion was more subdued than he thought it would be. It had been some time since she had awakened to her new reality and he had followed her exploits with great interest, though he had never expected her cooperation. Yet here she stood, willing to be alone with him. He slid his arm off the side of the cryopod he was leaning against, trying to stand up straight, and wobbled slightly.

Suddenly, she was at his side and lending him her arm. He leaned against her after a moment of hesitation and allowed her to lead him to the base of the small set of stairs down from the ring of cryopods in this chamber. He could feel the tension in her shoulders through the thin tunic he wore beneath his armor, but her Altean strength was evident as well. She did not flinch, and he came to rest in a half-crouch at the bottom of the stairs.

“Might I offer you something to eat?” she asked. “Many of those who emerge from cryopods are ravenously hungry upon returning to the waking world.” She offered him the bowl again and he nodded. As a matter of fact, he wasn’t hungry at all, but he knew he ought to eat. Over his many years, he had learned the hard way that the numbness he was feeling now was no protection against his body’s basic needs. “It’s food goo,” she explained, interrupting his thoughts. “Slightly sour and tangy, but nourishing enough for the moment.”

“Thank you, princess,” he said hoarsely. Mechanically, he ate it, and she busied herself with the faintly glowing control panel in the center of the room until he approached her with the empty bowl. She took it, and another shiver went through him when her thumb brushed his forefinger. Surely the cryopod’s effects were not so long-lasting? As he turned from her, she spoke again.

“Thank you, Lotor...” His name sounded strange in her mouth, and he realized it was because he was so used to hearing each syllable uttered with distaste and heavy emphasis. Those who respected him only called him commander. “...for having the strength to do what we could not. I do not know if we could have faced him at the end, altered as he seemed to be by Haggar. However things proceed from here, know that you have our gratitude for that.” He blinked, wondering if he really had awakened from his cryogenic slumber or if this was one of the many aspirational dreams of peace that so often haunted his sleep. 

“Of course, princess,” he replied, the timbre of his voice still rougher than he would have liked. He cleared his throat. “This turn of events is for the best, not just for you and I, but for all the universe. Zarkon’s tyranny demanded an end. I am only glad he did not remove the universe’s last hope with him.” She looked puzzled. “I mean you, of course. Voltron,” he corrected. She need not think he was singling her out. Naturally the axis of the universe did not turn on her alone, did it? A faint smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, if he was not deceiving himself.

“There is much to discuss on the matter of Voltron and the trans-reality comet in your possession.” He braced himself for a lecture. They had been over this; had he not proved his lack of ill will sufficiently now that he knew they could be relied on? But she said no more on the matter. “That can be dealt with when the time comes.” She shut down the display above the control panel and reached down to the base of its podium to retrieve a sleek draw-string bag and handed it to him. “Your armor is within. It seems somewhat damaged but it is of a make this ship’s best repair systems are unfamiliar with so unfortunately we could not restore it. But hopefully we have at least managed to tend to your wounds sufficiently?” His hand went to his side where the worst of the damage had been done, but he did not feel even the ghost of a wound. 

“More than sufficiently. I am quite well, and grateful in my turn. I will talk about anything you’d like to discuss whenever you are ready. I trust the black bayard has been returned to the true black paladin?” She tilted her head at his choice of words and nodded.

“Yes, all is as it should be for now. And though I know the dissolution of the Galra Empire is what concerns you at the moment, I urge you to rest longer if you feel it necessary. There will be little rest once I inform the other paladins that you are up and about.” It was then that he noticed that she had brought a cot into the far end of the room for him with a small chair and table at its side. He wondered at her for a moment, not only willingly speaking alone with him, but seemingly doing so on purpose. Perspicacious as he generally considered himself to be, he could not guess her reasoning.

“I appreciate your efforts on my behalf, princess, but time is of the essence. And your cryotech has done its job. I am ready for whatever comes.” She opened her mouth in protest but shut it just as quickly.

“Then I will meet you at the bridge in fifteen minutes. The other paladins are not so prompt as I am, so you can expect an audience of one again, at least for a little while.” She had turned away from him before saying this, but by all the stars in the cosmos, he swore he could hear a smile in her voice.


	2. Beauty is Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The “missing moment” this time is the little bit of time these two could potentially have had to themselves prior to the Kral Zera. I had fun describing Olkarion in this chapter as well as making my first effort at developing the relationship between Pidge and Allura in ways we never see on the show (I mean come on, they both lost family to the Galra - temporarily in Pidge's case, and both have a shared intellectualism and love for science! What a missed opportunity!). Let me know how you like her characterization as this is my first time writing her. Oh also...I'm a huge John Keats fan. Just f.y.i. I hope I used him wisely here.

“I cannot imagine this working out for the better for anyone, least of all you.” Allura did not fear being frank with him, as he always gave as well as he got, though with all due decorum.

“Tell me, princess, is it any more difficult to imagine a sky in perpetual sunset?” She looked at him blankly. He gestured to the control panel in the center of the room displaying the skies of Olkarion, forever on the brink of darkness, suffused with a warm orange light.

“I don’t have to imagine it,” she replied, jutting out her chin. “It’s quite real.” He ran his hand through his long white hair in exasperation, as she’d noticed he was wont to do.

“You do wonder at it, though, princess? You do find there’s a kind of romance in it?” The upswing in his tone took on an almost pleading note. She felt a prickle of heat rise under her collar and fretted with the strands of hair that always slipped from her tight bun. “While most if not all wonders can be explained, that does not rob them of their essential uniqueness. How I see them, experience them, describe them - it all carries with it an understanding imparted only to me each moment I am in its presence, as it does to you. Taking a stand against the warlords at the Kral Zera can only have one outcome, and whatever that outcome might be will remain a wonder, a mystery forever, if we do not attempt it and ascertain its definite quantities for ourselves.”

She was not sure if she understood everything or nothing of what he was saying. They had stood on opposite sides of the control panel podium up to this point, but now he moved closer to her, closer than she had ever wittingly allowed him, a question on his lips.

Suddenly, Pidge entered the room. “Hey, Allura, I was wondering if you might like to - oh.” She looked at the space between the two of them, or rather the lack of it, and narrowed her eyes.

“I would like to,” Allura said quickly. “You know how I love long walks between missions when we can afford them. All is ready for the Kral Zera; whatever happens next is out of my hands. I would love to accompany you.” Pidge’s face lit up at this.

“Great! Because I was hoping to practice what Altean I’ve learned from the Castle’s language center with you and I wanted to take a closer look at the Olkari tech still deep in the forest and -”

“Excuse me,” Lotor cut in. “Might I accompany you both?” Allura looked at him askance but his expression was strangely still and serene as if he’d planned this all along. That look always worried her. As if in response to her unease, he ran a hand through his hair again, communicating his own. “It is only that I have never been on the surface of Olkarion myself, and I think what they have accomplished here - and what you have safeguarded - is remarkable. One might call it a wonder.” He smiled slightly, his eyes downcast for a sliver of a moment - and as always in such moments, she caught a glimpse of a deep melancholy she could not begin to heal. Or perhaps she could.

She smiled. “Well as they say, it does not do to leave wonders to themselves. We must determine the definite quantities ourselves, and admire whatever romance is left over.”

Pidge dug a bony elbow into Allura’s ribs. “Romance?” Allura laughed aloud suddenly. “Capital ‘R’ romance, Pidge! Not little ‘r’romance. Romance like your human romantic poets. Like John Keats.” Pidge squinted.

“Was never big on English Lit. But yeah sure, you can both come. Meet you outside the Castle in five.”

* * *

Allura never wore her combat suit on friendly rebel planets when she went for a walk. It was a matter of both comfort and diplomacy, of being as well as playing the princess known as the heart of Voltron. Strange, how the stuffiness and mundanity of diplomacy had become a solace to her in the chaos of war, so closely it was tied to familiar things that were all too unfamiliar in the shadow of the Galra Empire’s impending collapse. Lately though there hadn’t been time for her walks, and she was worried that her everyday dress would be musty. Thanks to her mice friends, however, it had been kept fresh and clean. She kissed each of them on the nose and left her chambers, letting her hair down and sighing with relief at the knot of tension at the base of her neck that dissolved when she shook out her bun into the voluminous waves of silvery hair she rarely allowed to breathe these days.

Outside the Castle walls, Pidge paced restlessly and Lotor stood facing into Olkarian’s deep orange horizon. “Ready to go?” Pidge asked, and Lotor turned in response. For a moment - just a moment - his purple irises seemed to widen in surprise, but when Allura blinked it was as though nothing had happened.

“Lead the way, Pidge,” Allura said, a hand on her young friend’s shoulder. It was so rare that they got to spend time together, and she was always so happy to learn all manner of new things from her. Her intellect was a quick-darting, sparkling marvel the likes of which Allura had never seen and she relished being the pupil rather than the teacher among the Paladins for a change. It was no wonder she piloted the Green Lion.

Pidge grinned up at her, the fading light glinting off her glasses. “Alright, follow me, you two. I know I’m not usually the team scout, but I know the way to the heart of the Olkari forest tech like the back of my hand.”

* * *

 Deep in the woods, they came to an area with a thinner understory and Pidge led them to the base of a tree wound round with a thick, ropy vine large enough to walk on. Allura began to hike up her dress, but Lotor offered her his hand.

“Oh, you needn’t -” Pidge turned to look back at the two of them, frowning.

“Just follow me; I promise it’s not complicated.”

“My apologies, Princess,” Lotor said, swiftly withdrawing his hand. “Force of habit. Of course you can manage by yourself.”

“Force of habit?” Pidge scoffed, hands on her hips. “Please. If there’s one thing I don’t ever expect to see on our tour of the universe, it’s a Galran princess.”

“Pidge, manners!” Allura snapped. And without another word, she slipped her hand into the crook of Lotor’s arm and marched forward, not daring to look at either his or Pidge’s expression, the color rising in her cheeks. But he fell into step so fluidly and easily beside her that his arm seemed not to move at all.

On a sort of plateau on the topmost section of the vine, they looked down on old Olkarion - a forested glade interspersed with slats of corrugated wood humming faintly with skeins of pale green light. Allura simply stood there until Pidge snapped her out of her awestruck state. “Sure the view’s nice and all, but come and look at the TECH!” She raced down to the base of the tree with Allura and Lotor following at a stately pace behind her. When they got to the bottom, Lotor leveraged himself over the edge and held a hand up for her to grasp.

She’d not looked at his hands up close before. They were elegant and long-fingered but positively dwarfed her own and came to a point with his unsheathed claws. This surprised her; she had never known him to have claws like many of his fellow Galra. She must’ve stared a little bit too long because he suddenly dropped his hand to his side. Mortified, she reached across the empty space between them again, initiating the request for his hand herself this time. Had she committed some kind of faux pas? There was so much she did not know about the Galra, about being a princess, about everything. So much she never had time to learn. She bit her lip and felt the sting of tears behind her eyes, but his hand grasped hers decisively this time as she blinked them back, claws or no claws.

Pidge rolled her eyes. “C’mon you guys, what is this, the roof of the Sistine Chapel?” They both looked at her with quirked eyebrows and she groaned. “Let’s just go!” Allura chanced a quick glance down at his hand to find that though his claws remained unsheathed, his hand cradled hers perfectly, unharmed.

They followed in her wake as she described every twist and turn in the wooded city, pulsating softly against the golden skies above. Occasionally, she would attempt an explanation in broken Altean and Allura would gently and patiently correct her, all the while marveling at her progress. Hers was a mind exceptionally good at finding the pattern of things - their warp and their weft. Once they reached the edge of the grove, Pidge removed a sort of twig and leaf tiara from her bag and brandished it excitedly.

“Get a load of this!” Without further explanation, she pressed her palm to the base of a nearby tree. “This headband issues commands - it sends a binary-coded message between me and the tree! It’s an interface!” The same glowing green lines found elsewhere in the grove spread quickly from the point of contact, converging on a large wooden orb above that cracked open like a nut as it plummeted to the ground, a fully formed mech. Allura smiled up at Pidge, eyes crinkling with pride.

“Incredible!” Lotor walked the full perimeter of the huge wooden robot. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“I’m so pleased we had to time for you to share all this with us, Pidge. I’ve learned so much.”

“Well,” Pidge replied, scrambling down from her perch high above in the mech, “You’re gonna learn more.” She tossed her tiara to Allura. “You two practice with the trees near here. I’ve got some mecha dragonflies to study. Meet you back here in fifteen.” And she was off.

“She’s quite the brilliant mind, your Green Paladin.” Lotor watched her go with what could only be genuine fondness in the soft contours of his gaze. This was not a side of him she was used to seeing. She turned from him to a nearby tree with its mecha pod intact high above them.

“Yes, we’re all very proud of her. Now let’s see if it’s as easy as she makes it look...”

Several minutes passed, and Allura had no luck. Frustrated and embarrassed, she handed the tiara to Lotor.

“But, princess, I am sure if you persist -”

“I am a bit weary of it. I will refresh myself for the time being while you have a go at it.” She spread her skirts out below her and busied herself with her holo folio, flipping through catalogues of recent troop movements. It was but a few moments before Lotor had summoned his own mecha and she stood up in surprise.

“Well done! I admit I haven’t the faintest idea of what you and Pidge did that I did not.” He slid down the side of the mecha and handed the tiara to her.

“We wondered, princess. We accepted that there are some things you cannot make out entirely, even with a lifetime’s worth of knowledge. They must simply be experienced in the way that there are so few differences between myself and this mecha, or the setting suns overhead...or you.” In the past she would have taken his even, measured tones for condescension. But his golden eyes were fixed on her own averted gaze so earnestly and she felt it and could not deny it.

“Please, Lotor, not everything is a metaphor. Some things are just wonders.” But she knew he was right. “I will try again next time. I am glad at least, this time, you got a chance.” An uncomfortable silence followed, filled with the shared knowledge that they might not get another.

* * *

The three of them made their way back to the Castle at a leisurely pace, having made good time on their journey into the forest. Pidge was happy to dominate the conversation with theories and speculation about the potential of such “organic” technology, and for the most part Allura and Lotor listened in amiable silence.

When they arrived at the front door, Pidge asked if she might speak to Allura in private and Lotor bowed politely in response, taking his leave. As soon as the door slid shut behind him, Allura was surprised to find Pidge hugging her tightly. “Pidge! Whatever is the matter?” Pidge let go and slid her glasses up the bridge of her nose, biting her lip.

“Look Allura, I know you’re older than me and you’re way better at dealing with people than I am so I’ve probably got no right to say this but...please be careful, ok?”

“Of what?” But she knew full well what Pidge meant, and Pidge knew it too.

“Oh, c'mon. He was totally John Keats-ing you! ‘Beauty is truth, truth beauty; that is all ye know on earth and all ye need to know’ blah blah blah.” Her tone was light but she furrowed her brow.

“John Keats, Pidge? I took it you weren’t a fan?”

“I’m a quick study alright? I looked him up the minute you mentioned him. Funny choice if all that was going on was Capital ‘R’ romance. You two were giving off some pretty tiny ‘r’s.”

“I simply want to understand him. He is Galran and our ally, and those are two things I’ve rarely uttered in the same sentence before. He deserves my respect and my attention.”

“Just don’t give him anything he hasn’t earned, ok? Throw in a little more math maybe, and a little less poetry. That’s all I ask.” Allura squeezed her shoulder.

“You don’t need to worry about me, I promise.” But Allura had rarely seen her worried more.


End file.
